


I Will See

by coldphannie



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Drama Class, Fluff, Highschool AU, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Self-Acceptance, but they dont realise it yet, gay boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldphannie/pseuds/coldphannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're best friends, but nobody knows, not the drama elective he started a year later, and not really himself.<br/>...until he lets it happen.</p><p>(it being that weird warmth in his chest)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will See

The first time his friend slips upstairs, he doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t notice because of the way his hands are occupied with air, gesticulating in conversation. He doesn’t notice as the class transitions into independent work – _independently_ discussing a viral video in the corner.  Mr. Mallare tends to the seniors, understandably. On his desk is Tupperware that diminishes periodically throughout the day, never finished.  
Not during the year 10’s classes. The others have found acquaintance with it already.

When Dan walks past him in the hallway, he does notice. They’re limited to brief greetings, but there’s intensity held within knowing looks and anticipated quirks of the mouth. Despite the comfort he discovers in the expanse of his friends’ caramel eyes, he won’t indulge himself for too long.

“Phil,” Mr. Mallare stares intently at him and not at the same time. He finds it a characteristic sole to drama teachers, who have staged enough characters to suck the certainty from their own. “You wouldn’t mind hopping upstairs to grab the masks, would you?”

He nods eagerly, the door to the stairs yet another secret to only himself. The others are stuck with heads in their screens, ‘finding inspiration’ for the ‘latest assignment’. He solidly clunks, shifting up the wooden stairs.  
A set of eyes are wide for his arrival.

“Oh.” Phil watches the curtains of costumes wreathe around his friend, tall and animated. “You’re here. Did I interrupt you?”

“Not really,” The boy stammers with the growing exhibition of his teeth. They’re too bright, Phil decides, so he studies the clustered attic for masks. Dan plonks onto a stool and adds, “just practising.”

Not anymore, Phil conceives, and scurries back downstairs.

-

He isn’t sure why he does it. While the class snorts behind stretched sweater sleeves, he progresses on the assignment.  
Energy captures his attention. A powerful monologue – his mother always said it accompanied the intensity of his stare. When he’s confident with the flow of his speech he occupies a lone corner of the classroom.

By the third lesson he understands why Dan migrates upstairs. He feels the weight of scrutiny. It sits on his shoulder blades. Only when Mr. Mallare sprouts a promising look, content, while lifting his lips from a green shake, he eases. His throat, his quavering knees and lungs, they sink beneath the off-grey carpet. What’s left is performance. Words suspended in the air of his makeshift stage.

He doesn’t usually zone in to the humble discussion of his peers. He calls it a necessary break of immersion.

“I wonder if Dan’s done acting out of school,” pervades his mind in the form of soft soprano. Yes, he thinks, an excited stream of details rushing from his friend. Lysander cemented Dan’s confidence to love, no juice to broaden his eyes and potential, and that was the start of many performances Phil hasn’t allowed himself to attend.  
The urge to answer is stretching the back of his throat, because he knows. It’s merely an urge, though, because it would strange to do so. Their relationship is a whisper. The remote for volume control isn’t in his hands.

Dull permeates the clouds on the day Phil presents his monologue. It was alright, he’ll tell his mother, and suspects a B grade when he sinks back into the audience seat. His thoughts are brief. Dan centres himself on the stage.

“You’re a nurse, give me something, I… don’t know what to do anymore, I…” Dan projects his words, expectedly cusped with emotional. It is only him, the rest stagnant.

But Phil can only observe the greying carpet, familiar and a lone refuge. In this darkened room, Dan is intimately bright. The simple action of meeting gaze will release all of his secrets. Phil is strangely tense. Underneath is admittedly home and safe, and he wonders if he’s ready to venture out.

“I could be… I could be sick too, maybe I'm sick too. I don't know. Please, tell him I love him… can you do that?”

Phil’s breath hitches in his throat as he does it, he lets go and interprets the glistening blend of Dan’s stare. _Look at me. I want to be seen by you._ It reassures his lungs.

-

“I need some powerful people,” Mr. Mallare’s voice expands when he realizes there’s enough time left in the period to instruct some physical labour. Phil amusedly hums at his teacher’s refusal of ‘manpower’ or ‘girl’ power, and somehow is mistaken for a volunteer. His heart suspends and spurs when Dan follows.

Given the vast size of their campus, it’s no surprise when the concrete stains with moisture on the trip back. The boys don’t hesitate to take the long way, ducking under shelter whenever possible. Phil can tell by the way Dan’s hair curls at the edges that he doesn’t want to stand outside any longer than necessary.

The rain is too loud, and he finds himself blurting, “Your speech was good.”

“You think?” Dan questions softly, his voice and his features reveal after a swift glance.

“Yeah” It sounded real. He recalls the clearness in his caramel eyes. Phil doesn’t wonder how much of it was acting. “Really good”

“Thanks.” Dan ducks his head into the collar of his shirt. When Phil turns to him, his eyes are steadily forward, sheepishly twisting his lips, “Means a lot from you.”

In their next class, he realises that it’s okay to relax into the gaze Dan sends him when they’re asked to find partners for the next assignment. The volume of their relationship amplifies.  
Year 10 drama begins by finding comfort in the way his blood dances a little faster.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading (?). Dan's monologue was an excerpt from Angels in America, which is sorta about homosexuality and a crisis with AIDS. Let me know if you want more from me??


End file.
